I want to make a joke about the Cleveland Browns front office knocking Andy Reid from his throne as the NFL's worst clock manager, but I'm pretty Sashi Brown is just actively trying to get himself fired at this point. If you can think of a better excuse for an executive of a winless team without a capable QB to be tapping his foot and staring at his watch at 4:58 PM then you can let me know, but having the vast majority of the following business day to get a deal done for A.J. McCarron and coming up short on time is basically straight out of 'Office Space'. Like, assuming the entirety of their braintrust didn't accidentally schedule family vacations in third world countries during the trade deadline, this is occupational disregard at it's finest. If today's ridiculous amount of activity is any indication, 31 NFL teams were working around the clock while the Cleveland Browns spent the day clocking around the work with an ass backwards 'first one out, last one in' mentality.

I have no inside information to tell me differently so I simply have to assume that Sashi Brown waited until 3:58 to give the Bengals a ring like he wasn't even trying to get a deal done, but rather just trying to prove to Coach Hue Jackson that he placed the call that could have potentially gotten a deal done. Almost as if he were an office worker that was intentionally trying to catch the voicemail of one of their more chatty clients during their lunch hour. Just on the phone like "What's that? It's 4PM already? Shucks, guess there's no need to draw up alllll that paperwork for that exchange we briefly and belatedly discussed". It seems odd that a historically hapless organization in a business as competitive as professional sports would treat the most important position on their roster like you or I treat an adult friend on a non-momentous birthday, but how else could you possibly explain the lack of urgency from the Cleveland Browns' front office?

Honestly, you probably shouldn't have needed convincing that getting a 5th round round pick for a 25 year old goalie with four starts in his NHL career who was firmly entrenched as a third stringer and previously passed through waivers was a mutually beneficial move for both parties.

That said, some insanely biased people have a very difficult time understanding trade value. Those people need to realize that by beating the Flyers (again) and giving the Coyotes their first win of the season, Scott Wedgewood has already done more for the Devils this year than he would have been given the opportunity to do as an actual member of the Devils. As promising a player as I think he is, getting a mid-round pick for someone with a history of injuries that's longer than his history of professional success is a more than solid move. Especially when that move gives said player his first legitimate (and well-deserved) opportunity to continue adding to that resume.

As far as I am concerned, this was the best case scenario for a guy that now has two of his three career wins over his former rivals. Like, there's only a small part of me wants to undue the trade after seeing him put forth a victorious performance against Philadelphia, and that small part is wondering if there is another team looking to give up an asset for a goaltender that also happens to have the Flyers coming up on their schedule.

So, I think I speak for all Devils fans when I say I am happy for Scott Wedgewood and wish him the best going forward. Here's to hoping that best continues to come against other members of the Metropolitan Division!

Hey Bob McNair...BOO!!! You can't run and you can't hide, for the ghosts of improperly worded, idiotic idioms past are a persistent bunch.

Honestly, part of me wishes that the entire Houston Texans' roster dressed like inmates, hide in every nook and cranny of the team facility, and waited patiently around corners and doors to scare the death into the old bastard. If his poorly phrased words are any indication then watching damn near his entire team kneel in protest of his subconsciously ignorant ideology was an absolute nightmare, but what if they turned his dumbass analogy into a reality?

Imagine 53 professional football players running loose around their professional "prison" dressed as "convicts" dedicating themselves to intimidating the man that apparently considers himself a "warden"? I've never considered myself much of a poet, but the poetic justice would be strong in turning his workplace into a house of horrors and frightening that fragile, old fuck into an assisted care facility before his facial rectum loses all forms of bladder control.

I think what bothers me the most about a seemingly hypothetical but inevitable suspension that is more on-again, off-again than a middle school relationship is that all legal jargon surrounding it sounds so definitive. Well, that and the fact that it has turned an issue as serious as domestic violence into a pissing contest between a billion dollar industry and the Federal Justice System, but not having the law school education to realize that "denies preliminary injunction" really just means "we'll revisit this before week's end" is also pretty fucking infuriating.

At this point, there's not one single ruling that can convince me that this game of 'red light, green light' has reached its conclusion. Contrary to the entire point of the original punishment in the first place, that somehow gives me even less faith in those running the NFL than I have in all seven ownership groups that have run the local Indian restaurant into the ground over the last four years. We are almost at a point where turning an 1/10th of a pound of air pressure into an 18 month investigation seems logical by comparison, because the decreasing time frames between suspended, not suspended, re-instated, unre-instated, re-uninstated, and re-re-instated have become so comically short that - from an incompetence perspective - nothing can even compare. The NFL, with the help of a judicial system that I never knew was this laughably limp-wrested, has just continued to outdo itself in terms of failing to dole out discipline in a timely manner. In a weird way, that's actually impressive.

I realize that the following is something that a snowflake would say, but I'm no snowflake. I don't find myself offended by Connor McDavid dressing up as the most polarizing, egomaniacal political figure in American history. Fortunately, I don't have to be to wonder why he thought that doing so would be a good idea.

I get that he's not American. Hell, he doesn't even play in an American city. I get that he's a teenager and that he likely just wanted to throw some quick couples costume together that would play into his hot girlfriend's hotness without turning her into a slutty member of a generic, blue collar profession. Still, while I actually respect that Connor McDavid is so obsessed with being the most transcendent athlete on ice that he refused to put even an ounce of creative thought into his costume, he probably could have benefited from throwing on a floral shirt and going as the boring ass wallpaper that he is off the ice.

I mean, we are talking about a guy that has taken warmup laps that are more interesting than literally any single stance that he has ever taken, and I don't mean that as a compliment. Connor McDavid, in the Sidney Crosby mold, has a personality that could put you to sleep, and the first time he frayed from his cookie-cutter was to play (extremely generous) dress-up as the one person on the planet that was guaranteed to illicit a negative reaction?

I suppose I didn't expect someone who has spent 22 hours a day perfecting his craft to also call social awareness a skill, but if he was going to go the controversial route then he could have at least made sure his outfit was funny or original. If not, he should have just been something that better fit his formulaic effort not to get noticed for anything other than his superhuman talent. At best this costume is played out, and at worst it appears to show a modicum of support for a President that the Pittsburgh Penguins publicly treated like a leper. Neither is a particularly great look for someone who has seemingly made a conscious decision to remain nauseatingly neutral about everything else.

​"Me personally, I feel like I can do way more than [Bell] did. Like I said, I only had seven carries. I can't showcase nothing if I don't get the ball. There's nothing else I can say," Mixon said, via ESPN.com's Katherine Terrell.This Week:

for someone who feels they can do “way more” than I can, sure seems like u wanna be me! tryin to mimic my run style, my 1st down celebration

I don't feel like wasting my time debating who is the better running back between Le'Veon Bell and Joe Mixon, despite the answer - as of now - quite clearly being the former.

I don't even feel like wasting my time debating who comes off as the more petty individual between Le'Veon Bell and Joe Mixon, despite the answer - as of now - quite clearly being the former.

What I will waste my time doing in reference to this pointless pissing match between professional athletes is shame both participants.

I have no problem with Joe Mixon being confident that his talent is comparable to Le'Veon Bell's just as I have no problem with Le'Veon Bell being confident that Joe Mixon's style is a litttttle too suspiciously comparable to his own...

I do, however, have a problem with sports beefs that don't stand any reasonable chance to get settled on a field of play. The bickering and babbling is all good if there is a head-to-head competition that we can use to choose a winner. In essence, I can't endorse this feud while knowing damn well that Le'Veon Bell and Joe Mixon will never, ever end up lined across from each other. Maybe it's a caveman-esque mentality, but I need my verbal spats to contain the potential for a physical altercation, even if that physical altercation is inherent to gameplay. As my hockey coach once told us back in the day, "if you guys aren't going to hit each other then just shut the hell up and play".

Have we all come to grips with donating any semblance of a respectable sleep cycle to an absolute marathon of a baseball game that somewhat miraculously maintained it's entertainment value throughout all 5+ hours? If you've got any puns about 'Minute Maid Park' and juiced balls remaining in the chamber of your drafts then shoot them off into their saturated online market, because I have a half serious question to get to.

Am I supposed to give a shit that the balls have obviously been altered?

I can see why the relievers whose dream states have been transformed into nightmares with the replacement of sheep by the balls they've been traumatized into counting as they fly overhead might not be ecstatic about the dangers of any sort of solid contact being ripe for the warning track. But for the casual fan? Doing the equivalent of pumping the balls full of 'Jolt Cola' seems like quite the compromise between boring pitcher's duels and being completely steroid fueled.

​Let's face it, with it's dwindling popularity, baseball needs to cater to more than the cranky curmudgeons that call themselves "purists", and there's nothing your average, every day asshole of a sports fan loves more than home runs. It's either a biologically masculine mindset or an inherently millennial temperament, but - either way - my attention can't span for 5 hours unless it's being propped up by the increased likelihood of man hitting projectile hundreds of feet into the distance. It's entirely possible I have spent more time focused on baseball games throughout this series than I have in the last decade combined, and that has everything to do with how often the game script has been flipped with nothing more than one swing.

Now admittedly, splicing the genetics of a golf ball and a racquetball in with the DNA of baseball taints the integrity of the game, but - for once - that tainted integrity doesn't create a competitive advantage. Juiced balls might cheat the numbers, but they don't cheat the fans or the players.

Those that live and die with 'Major League Baseball' might not agree with a process that's become insanely accepted regardless of it still technically being hypothetical. However, if it weren't for dingers being hit by the dozen then we would probably still be talking about how the MLB stupidly failed to suspend a player for a public display of abject racism, so maybe having inanimate objects bursting at the seems with steroids of sorts might actually be good for the game. Baseball needed a metaphorical needle in the ass, so let's just be happy that it's no longer coming in the form of a literal needle in the ass.

It seems crazy to say this about a woman that makes a living using one foot to flip an entire kitchen's worth of bowls on top of her head while using her other foot to balance atop a 12- foot unicycle in front of tens of thousands of people, but I have never been more impressed by Red Panda. The fact that she was able to concentrate with Marshawn Lynch providing laugh out loud commentary from just a few feet behind her actually convinced me that she's better at her job than Marshawn Lynch has ever been at his, and the last thing I would want to do is provoke the mode of the beast.

Now, obviously there's a lot less competition in the absurdly high stakes game of handlebar-less bike riding with projectile dish-ware, but the point remains. If you can perform to the best of your abilities with the hilarious and often-explicit vocal styles of Marshawn Lynch chirping in your ear then your talent is unmatched. The pure shock and awe from professional sports most lovable malcontent made it nearly impossible for me to focus on the lady that was putting on a one-woman circus, and that - more than anything - speaks to her ability to put on said circus despite the presence of the NFL's most welcomed distraction.

I'm not in the business of telling people how to be sports fans. If I were I might suggest not turning yourself into a viral sensation as an overgrown infant in the name of superstition, but - like I made clear prior - critiquing people for getting overly emotional and overly invested in a game they aren't participating in isn't my area of expertise. That's mostly because that would require a lot of potentially ugly self reflection, but it's also because different people place different values on different things.

For that reason, and that reason only, I think our buddy in the two-toned golf shirt should be excused for his obnoxious actions. In the same vein that society expects us to hand every foul ball to a nearby child, I think that man-child was deserving of the baseball that he unceremoniously stole and the answer as to 'why?' is pretty simple. Throwing it back meant far more to him than holding on to it would have meant for the woman who caught it.

Just take one look into those crazy eyes, and tell me - with conviction - that Little Johnny wouldn't be packing his shit for the foster home if the person they belonged to was forced to choose between keeping his first born and ridding the home stands of that tainted baseball. I've seen too many damn lunatics at sporting events not be able to identify when someone in attendance has ass-backwards priorities, but I'll be damned if I can't respect a man for sticking to them. He shouldn't apologize for doing what he wrongfully - in his heart - thought was right, because he would never forgive himself if he didn't turn himself into the buzzkill of the ballpark and the Astros went on to lose. Now, I wouldn't want to watch a high stakes ball game while within his same state lines, but I can appreciate the disproportional amount of passion that has him thinking that he can have an intangible effect on the outcome.

P.S. If these guys truly are friends then the one on the left just cost himself more invites than Larry David during last night's episode of'Curb Your Enthusiasm'...and something tells me he gives the same amount of fucks.

Let me make one thing very clear, that headline conveniently uses a coincidence to continue pushing a potentially false narrative. I obviously can't say for certain, but I think we were already relatively far removed from any hypothetical demotion of Jesper Bratt. The concern that he might be sent back to Juniors was likely just a manifestation in the minds of fans that didn't want to get their hopes up about the unbelievably entertaining 19 year old doing what was once thought impossible of a 6th round pick by remaining in New Jersey for the long haul. Still, the fact that said decision paid off in the biggest of ways one day after it would have had to have been officially made is incredibly fitting. Nine games as a creative offensive force and a shockingly efficient penalty killer basically made a tenth game a virtual certainty, but I'll be damned if he didn't turn into his coming out party.

The dump-in (not shown in the first clip) and forecheck that led to Taylor Hall's first goal? The no-look backhand pass out of trouble that led to Adam Henrique's no-look backhand pass out of trouble that led to Taylor Hall's second goal? The casual and accurate one timer that finished off the picturesque passing play that he started and ultimately helped the Devils finish off a pretty lackluster effort against a winless Coyotes team? Honestly, everything Jesper Bratt did on Saturday night might as well have had a bow on it, so excuse me for treating his ironically timed three point night like it was the inevitable unwrapping of the gift that gets to keep on giving.

​The kid is an absolute stud, and if his chemistry with Taylor Hall was a sign of things to come then there are a hell of a lot of good things to come. Even more so than skill, the calmness to his game is what allows him to not look out of sorts playing alongside veterans. If that keeps up then his point total might be able to survive the eventual decline of a shooting percentage that is currently ludicrous (40%).

Quite frankly, I'm disgusted. That's mostly because the FOX broadcast decided it was necessary to repeatedly show Zach Miller's leg go the way of Gordon Hayward's until my lunch was on the verge of needing replacing, but also because the ensuing overturning of his touchdown was nothing short of a disgrace. Letter of the insanely stupid law or not, NFL officials had the opportunity to lean on the initial ruling on the field and decided to take points away from the player that only put the ball on the turf long after a play that could potentially cost him his leg...

​As a fan of the team that benefited from the call, I can definitively say I was disappointed to see it go in the Saints' favor. They very well may have won anyway, but it couldn't have felt more unjust to see their odds drastically increased by the most cold-blooded of technicalities. With how insanely intricate the NFL has made the definition of a concept as fundamental as a catch, I think we can make a broken leg stipulation that allows a player to drop the ball after rummaging around on the ground trying to accept the fact that standing on his own two feet will be out of the question for the foreseeable future. The New Orleans Saints are now the winners of five straight, but unfortunately bogus officiating made sure that wasn't the lead storyline from yesterday's game.

Speaking of yesterday's game, I'm not sure there's ever been a more glaring example of just how costly turnovers can be. Not once did it feel like a one score contest until it was a one score contest, and that was a direct reflection of Mark Ingram's issues with ball security. I was looking for things to get mad about as the Saints appeared to be juggling away a sure victory, and I realized that - other than a couple breakdowns in coverage - it was a pretty complete performance otherwise. Unfortunately, turnovers are offensive efficiency's kryptonite, so Drew Brees' racking up of 299 yards while completing 82% of his passes was rendered laughably unproductive in the second half.

As far as Mark Ingram is concerned, I am not at all concerned about Mark Ingram. It feels like every season he has one outlier of a game that allows the braindead portion of the fanbase to continue the false narrative that he's not a capable starter. Last year it was when he temporarily fumbled away his role to Tim Hightower and this year it will certainly be when he appeared to be in the bag for the Bears. Luckily neither of those valleys cost his team a victory, so it shouldn't be forgotten that his efforts are imperative to this team peaking. Maybe Alvin Kamara gets a slightly bigger share of the carries going forward, but - considering he was a convenient knee placement away from also ending up on the shit list - it's probably best to keep running your workhorse until his mistakes are far in the rearview. The two-headed tandem had a huge hand in getting them to 4-2, so there's no reason to re-invent their wheels now that they are 5-2.

​Simply put, Mark Ingram knows damn well that he sucked and that more is expected out of him, and him teammates should take notice so as to not make games against inferior competition harder on themselves going forward...

I was super whack today. My teammates savage af n bail me out! I WILL bounce back! I owe my team and Nola! Good W #WhoDat#GodWins

I'm not sure there's any "good" news results from a universally understood racist gesture that takes attention away from a championship series that has served as a defibrillator to the dying popularity of the sport of baseball. That said, if I were Yu Darvish I would take some solace in the fact that looks-based insults mean a whole hell of a lot less coming from someone that appears to have voluntarily swagger-jacked the styles of a multitude of exotic birds. Obviously as a run-of-the-mill white dude, I am neither Yu Darvish or making a big enough deal about the mocked facial feature being one that is inherent to a particular group of nationalities. Still, while the main issue is that we can't have athletes in the most repressed professional sport promoting discrimination on national television, I can't help but feel like the low-blow is ever-so-slightly softened by the victimized party's ability to say "look in the mirror, bro"...

Now the bad news, of which there is no shortage, is that we are about 4 hours away from the first pitch of Game 4 and the MLB has yet to hand down a punishment. He probably doesn't deserve the benefit of the doubt with how blatantly offensive that expression seems, but I'm fairly certain that the brightest of lights was shown on the cultural differences that exist in baseball on its biggest stage. Regardless, this isn't about what is or isn't perceived as prejudice by Yuil Gurriel. This is about a league that's viewed as being run just as "white" as your average country club needing to put its foot down and prove they are as progressive as the makeup of their rosters leads you to believe they are.

Trust me, I hate when off-the-field antics affect on-the-field performance as well. As the importance of the games increase, more and more I find myself erring on the side of no suspension. Unfortunately, as far as I can tell, the only other form of justice that exists in baseball requires the excessive force of an intentionally inaccurate 100MPH fastball. While I think that there is too much on the line for a World Series game to devolve into a plunking contest, I also think that Yuil Gurriel's actions require a lesson that's painfully comparable to taking one on the chin. Watching the biggest game of his life from afar is just that. It might be an odd correlation, but if a celebratory show of enthusiasm is worth a baseball upside the temple then a show of racism (be it a result of ignorance or not) is worth a one game benching.

The rules might remain unwritten, but Major League Baseball's questionable history is basically etched in stone. They would be extremely remiss to pass up this opportunity to paint over some of it while eyes of all shapes, sizes, and colors are on them.

UPDATE: It sends a message. Sadly, that message is that they prioritize the maintenance of a healthy working environment for all players somewhere in between the outcome of the first week of a one hundred and sixty two game schedule and the outcome of a 'World Series' game, but it does send a message...

Astros 1B Yuli Gurriel suspended without pay for first 5 games of 2018 regular season for inappropriate actions during last night’s game.

I feel like I am about to address the irritable audience at a PTA meeting, because - after last night's win - there is no shortage of concerns that need to be voiced on behalf of what's best for this young group. By focusing on the negative after the Devils found yet another way to pull out a win, I admittedly sound like a housewife that that is just bitching to bitch because her life became exponentially less argumentative once her kids moved out. However, coming out flat after a week off and going down early against a battered and beaten lineup that was playing it's third game in four nights is even more unacceptable than showing up to the local bake sale without making a contribution. Never mind the result, because failing to step on the proverbial throat of an inferior team (that was almost certainly looking forward to getting some rest) and blowing a late two goal lead is as noteworthy as the mom that keeps showing up to pick up her kids reeking of high-end vodka.

The result has yet to prove disastrous, but if things don't change then it's only a matter of time. Preemptive measures have to be considered, because I'm going to break into Janet's supply of Xanax if I am going to have to keep watching Damon Severson play a brand of defense that can be fittingly summed up by this clip of him ignoring his responsibilities to turn the other cheek and spread his legs for the post like he's its kinky little mistress...

That said, before this turns into a screaming match amongst those who have been spoiled by a hot start, there's one issue that needs to be prioritized over all others and that is missing person's report that was filed by Jesper Bratt. Perhaps this an APB that would be more successful if posted in a neighboring county, because there is no way Mike Condon was in the same zip code by the time the young Swede ever-so-casually floated the puck over the line. I have seen 'Stranger Things' than the disappearance of a goaltender from the net he was minding, but - with how out of sorts he looked after having his jock separated from his body - it might be wise to check the upside-down for his whereabouts. In a normal situation, I would focus on the little things the Devils did wrong en route to a victory, but putting a member of their opposition on the side of a milk carton is no normal situation. If only for today, the grief is good...

I don't have the slightest clue as to what Michael Irvin what was half-heartedly apologizing for when he took a stab at Steve Smith's choice in slacks, but - boy, oh boy - do I want to see the foot poking out the bottom of them meet some Dallas Cowboy ass. I totally understand why most athletes-turne-analysts adopt a more friendly persona once they start wearing a suit on the job, but I absolutely love that retirement hasn't even come close to softening Steve Smith. Michael Irvin might think that being on camera as an entertainer in front of millions of people is the situation in which it's safe to get your condescending jokes off, but - on or off the field - Steve Smith ain't no butt. Doesn't matter where you are or what are you're doing, if you insult his pants you might as well be insulting his mother, and momma said knock you out. Hopefully Michael Irvin isn't as much of a diva off the field as he was on, or he'll icing up real soon, son.

First and foremost, it's good to see that Dan Snyder is doing so well. I don't know what his property is valued at these days, but to also be able to afford his own echo chamber on the side? Whew, that's impressive. Think about how good of a job you have to do surrounding yourself with like minded people to calculate a 96% consensus rating on literally anything. I know for a fact that I couldn't get 96 out of 100 people to agree that Colin Kaepernick is an African American, and the Redskins' owner can get 96 out of 100 people to agree that his knee is 'Patient Zero' for the epidemic of anti-Americanism. Don't tell me that he doesn't know exactly what type of values he's looking for in his family, friends, associates, colleagues, and... well...pretty much everyone else that he conducts conversation with other than the actual players that likely make up a vast majority of that 4%.

Second on the docket, I'm not sure I can say I'm shocked that Texans' owner Bob McNair moronically botched a euphemism and somehow stuck a discriminatory steroid right in the ass of a racially charged conversation. I mean, I suppose I am surprised in the sense that he makes millions upon millions of dollars off the hard work of predominantly black athletes that he apparently subconsciously views as convicts. However, I'm not surprised in the sense that he's a 79 year old white man that could easily play the understudy of every generic, caucasian grandpa at the Thanksgiving dinner table.

Let't not pretend like that's not part of the problem here. We're expecting two sides to meet in the middle when one of those sides is mostly made up of people that have aged themselves into being allowed to unapologetically spew prejudice, antiquated rhetoric. A vast majority of people wouldn't think twice if they saw someone that looked like Bob McNair sitting at a sports bars calling NBA players "coloreds", but we expect him to have a fundamental sound grasp of institutional racism? The whole "it's a workplace and your boss is allowed to tell you what to do" argument is all well and good, but retirement usually intervenes before the average workplace is run by someone whose filter already died of natural causes. This discussion is going nowhere because those that are trying to moderate it have no interest in moderation. At least in part, that's why this issue won't die until some of the half-dead people having it meet the same fate.

Wha-what?!? You mean to tell me a locker room that houses a roster that's destined for dead last isn't conducive to reconciliation? I thought it was a blessing that two teammates felt so compelled to take their frustrations out on one another before one single game had been played. After all, the fact that it happened prior to the season left an entire schedule for physical and emotional healing. Am I really reading that a broken face between two boys can't get swept under the rug when that rug is shared by all the members of a completely hopeless team that has not one solitary reason for optimism? Since when is the harmonizing power of a warm embrace and a round of cold beers not enough to make the swelling go down and have two professional athletes put their inherent differences aside?

Shocking. Just absolutely shocking that Nikola Mirotic hasn't found it in his heart to forgive Bobby Portis while he's still eating through a straw. I'm stunned that neither of them has the foresight to see that working in close proximity with someone with whom you've fist fought is the ultimate elixir for resentment. Why ask for a trade that would - by default - put you in a situation that's more likely to be of the winning variety when there is still bad blood that's probably only one unproductive workplace away from being transfused?

Illegal? Definitely. Dirty? Maybe. Deserving of a "hey, you really have to be more careful around our precious quarterbacks" fine? Arguable, but it's certainly not the dumbest thing the NFL has made an example of. But calling for ejections, suspensions, and treating Kiko Alonso like some degenerate cheap shot artist? Yeah, uh, bit much if you ask me.

With the state of the NFL's watchability being fleeting, keeping the few and the fragile that can actually sling the ball around the yard with any accuracy healthy and upright should be a priority. I mean that in theory, since - at the risk of adding insult to injury - I don't think QB play as a collective takes all that much of a hit (pardon the pun) with Joe Flacco on the shelf. Regardless, the point is that I am all for protecting quarterbacks, but when are we going to hold quarterbacks responsible for protecting themselves?

Break that play down by the millisecond if you so choose. Run it back and freeze frame it where you Kiko Alonso made the conscious choice to deliver a blow to a guy who had given himself up, and then look in the mirror and slap the stupid out of yourself. We are talking about the biggest, strongest, fastest, and most instinctive athletes on the goddamn planet. It's nearly impossible for any of us to appreciate the speed with which professional football is played when we are watching it on television, and we damn sure can't appreciate it when we use said television to slow it to a snail's pace.

You realistically couldn't even fit in a blink during the time period between when each person left their feet. It sucks that the impact caused a removal of the helmet that was supposed to prevent the scrambling of the brain that knocked the Ravens starting signal caller out of the game, but Kiko Alonso's hit was only as late as Joe Flacco's slide. Don't let the fact that the latter plays a relatively baby'd position fool you because when you leave the pocket and come barreling toward the first down marker on 3rd down, you look a hell of a lot like a less coordinated version of any other offensive player. In conjunction with one another, that play went from harmless to dangerous, but the person being criticized shouldn't be the one whose tardiness was in making the fundamental play that keeps him employed. Even if his absence from the field would mean a hell of a lot less to our viewing experience.

TMZ- The World Series hasn't just been a slugfest on the field ... Houston Astros manager A.J. Hinch was involved in a heated altercation after Game 1 and cops were called ...TMZ Sports has learned.

Here's what we know ... Hinch was hanging out at the bar at the team hotel in Pasadena on Tuesday night after Houston lost Game 1 to the Dodgers.

​We're told he was having some drinks -- when some hotel guests came in and started talking trash about the Astros.

Sources say Hinch "snapped" and unleashed on the other patrons -- cursing and yelling in the middle of the bar. One witness tells us the incident turned physical and cops were called to separate the two parties.

We spoke with Pasadena PD and we were told they responded to the hotel at 10:30 PM to help security "keep the peace" during an incident involving Houston Astros "team management."

-------

Don't you just love when people in professional sports prove that they're not all that much different than you and me?

I haven't the slightest idea if these people knew who A.J. Hinch was when they started bashing the team he's led to the World Series. However, due to a lack of details, I'm envisioning a scenario where a bunch of casual Los Angeles fans (I know, that's redundant) strut into the bar and start talking directly out of their ass. I see the Astros' manager sitting with his back to their table, forcing himself to take deep breathes between sips from a glass of mind-clearing whiskey so as to rid himself of the oblivious voices growing louder and louder in his brain. Well, at least until they made one unforgivable comment that lacked such an understanding of Major League Baseball that it instinctually made a man who has devoted his life to the game flip his goddamn lid.

​Now, that's just a hypothetical. It's entirely possible that these dudes plopped right down next to him at that hotel bar with a purpose. Whatever the case may be, the fact that A.J. Hinch couldn't restrain himself while knowing damn well the ramifications that would result from fist fighting moronic Dodgers' fans on the eve of Game 2 makes me smile. Not just because a "bar fight" at an upscale hotel is a hilarious visual. But also because that hilarious visual features the manager of a professional baseball team losing his emotional inhibitions by way of alcohol at the least opportune time and transforming into the 43 year old sports fan that exists underneath his Houston Astros' jersey.

KATV- After a winless season last year, Mountain Pine opened this season with a 35-0 loss to Jessieville. But the next week the Red Devils won. Then in week three, the team won again. Mountain Pine is now 7-1 and heading for the playoffs.

So, what changed between week one and week two? A star player became eligible.

Mountain Pine has several good players, but this player has rushed for over 100 yards in every game. He has scored 16 touchdowns in those seven victories.

He was a transfer student initially ruled ineligible by the Arkansas Activities Association. He gained eligibility thanks to a little-known and seldom-used exception: He got married to a student in the district and moved in with her parents.

Rule 16, Subsection A, Exception 6 states that if a "… student is married and living with a spouse ... who had an established domicile in the district one year prior to the marriage ..." then he or she is instantly eligible.

On Aug. 31, Mountain Pine Superintendent Bobby Applegate emailed the AAA asking, "What all information did you say you needed for our student to become eligible when he gets married besides the license?"

A week later, Applegate provided the AAA with a marriage certificate with the names of two 17-year-old students on it. Applegate also provided an email from the bride's father confirming that the teens had married "due to a certain circumstances."

"What we do is just make sure that they followed our rules and being married with a marriage certificate ... that's part of our rules," says Taylor.

KATV visited the home where this player now lives. His father-in-law decided against doing an on-camera interview but he assures that the primary reason for this union does not involve sports or eligibility.

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Sixteen touchdowns in seven games? Over 100 yards rushing each time he's taken the field? Going undefeated with a team that had to drop out the previous season due to lack of participation? You're damn right this kid is married, because - regardless of what his birth certificate says - he is one grown ass man. Honestly, my biggest concern isn't that this marriage is between two children who have absolutely no idea who the fuck they are or what the fuck they are doing. Hell, it's not even the possibility that the certificate was signed in the interest of meaningless high school athletics. It's that it might soon need an annulment if Boobie Miles Jr. ends up alone in the kitchen with his wife's mom after working himself into a lather at practice. If his stats are any indication then he's 17-going-on-35 and a goatee away from competing for the hand of his mother-in-law.

In all seriousness, has one extremely odd news story ever done a better job embracing the culture of a region? It has basically all the ingredients. Take some teenage matrimony, sprinkle in a pseudo-psychotic love of football, swirl it all together with some strange loophole, spread it even throughout an unorthodox family structure, bake under one roof until playoff eligible, and - voila - the South!

I bet the writers from 'Friday Night Lights' are kicking themselves right in the ass right about now for not doing the research necessary to stumble upon a goddamn goldmine of a plot line. In fact, they may have even intentionally turned that page thinking that invoking a nuptial clause between 27 year olds playing teenagers would have been too far fetched for a show in which nearly every game ends with a successful hail mary. It's too bad they didn't do their homework on Mountain Pine, Arkansas.

I suppose one could consider this "news" to be a surprise. You know, if they hadn't spent a single second watching the Devils get off to a shocking 6-2 start, and considered Nico Hischier and Jesper Bratt to be nothing more than inexperienced teenagers as opposed to two of the team's top five point getters and vital cogs in their top six.

In all seriousness, Nico Hischier solidified a long standing spot in the lineup when he went full-Datsyuk before his first preseason game had even reached it's conclusion. As far as Jesper Bratt is concerned, he frequently makes it tough for the untrained eye to differentiate whether he's the upstart 6th round pick or the first overall pick. The argument could have been made to send him to London after his nine game audition, but that argument grew laughably weaker just about each and every time he took the ice.

The bumps and bruises of an 82 game schedule are sure to come, but these kids (along with Will Butcher) simply bring too much to the table - in a multitude of facets - to start worrying about how they'll adjust to the length of a season. The concept of giving young players time to develop shouldn't be dismissed, but it also should be prioritized when the presence of the young players in question is what's currently driving the development of their team.

Despite what their current record might show, the Devils are still very much in the midst of a rebuild. That said, it's incredibly encouraging to finally see some of the foundational pieces given the opportunity to settle into place. Nico Hischier and Jesper Bratt have already proven they are long for the National Hockey League, so they might as well continue to bring their skill and creativity to a roster that's unquestionably benefited from it since Day 1. That's what the excitement-starved fan in me wanted from the first drop of the puck, but it's what their play has absolutely demanded since.